


Never been in love before (So you gotta go easy on me)

by Brain_Brainson



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: M/M, Soft boys being soft, aspec Luther Hargreeves, talk about asexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brain_Brainson/pseuds/Brain_Brainson
Summary: “What if-, What if I don’t know what I need?” He swallows and his throat clicks, sticky. “Or what I want?”“What if all I am is just really confused?”(Sex is always good, isn’t it? That’s why people are so obsessed with it).





	Never been in love before (So you gotta go easy on me)

**Author's Note:**

> This started because I joked with some people from the Luthe Protection Squad that Luther has no idea how sex works and I thought 'I hc Luther as aspec anyway, so why not write a quick thing about him figuring that out?'
> 
> It...escalated a little, considering I planned roughly 1k for this. 
> 
> Have fun reading!

They’re sitting on the couch when it happens. 

 

One second, he’s sitting next to Diego, reveling in the way Diego throws his head back when he laughs, eyes on the column of his throat and hands sweaty, when suddenly, there’s a mouth on his. 

 

A warm mouth pushing onto his insistently, a wet tongue proding against his lips.

 

He ducks away fast enough he strains his neck, staring at Diego with wide eyes.

 

“What-,” he swallows audibly, his throat suddenly dry. “What was that?”

 

“Oh,  _ that? _ ” Diego leans back against a cushion, arms crossed, and Luther knows he’s annoyed by the hard line of his mouth. 

The mouth that was just on his. For some reason. 

 

(It’s not….it’s not that Luther hates the thought of kissing. He just never associated it with himself). 

 

“That was called ‘making out’. Don’t know if the term stuck around somewhere in your brain or if Dad took the last ounce of logical thought with him when he died. Considering you always had a hard time thinking for yourself.” 

 

It’s a low blow even for Diego and there’s a sting that goes right through Luther’s stomach and into his heart. But he’s not stupid; he sees the tense way Diego holds himself and he knows that he’s hurt, that he’s building up all the walls again, the ones they are slowly working on lowering around each other, probably regretting he ever put them down. 

 

“I’m not rejecting you,” Luther blurts out, knotting his hands together. He has the strange urge to apologize but it’s an irrational thought. For once, he didn’t fuck up, at least he thinks so. 

 

You could pin anything on him at this point and he’d beg on his knees, but him and Vanya are both working on that. Working on not being so apologetic about existing. 

 

(Something Vanya has been living with her whole life and Luther only some of it. Ever since he got large enough he wished people would ignore him instead of openly staring). 

 

~~ Sometimes he envies Vanya. ~~

 

Diego scoffs. “It really looks like it though.”

 

“I just...I didn’t see this coming? I’m a bit confused.” Luther presses his fingers alternately against his thumb, trying to get the nervous energy out. It helps a little. 

 

Diego lets his head fall back, eyes closed, and just like that, all the anger buzzing around him dissipates. Diego’s a bit like a rooster: Puffing up his feathers, screaming ‘I am tough!’

It took a bit for Luther to realize that just like roosters, most of that posing is for show. 

 

“You really are clueless.”

 

Luther doesn’t argue, just waits until Diego continues. Diego sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

 

“I mean, it’s not like I’ve been flirting with you for the past few weeks, not at all.”

 

Diego doesn’t open his eyes but Luther still looks away, cheeks warm. It’s weird to hear things like that directed at him, like he should laugh and shake his head and will the awkwardness away. 

 

But he keeps quiet, only that Diego doesn’t say anything either and Luther can feel his heart beat faster, goosebumps running down his back. 

“That’s nice.”

 

Diego makes a sound like a snort, puff of air leaving his lungs. “Swoon me with your poetry, big boy.”

 

Diego’s not serious but Luther answers anyway, voice small.

 

“I could write you a poem.”

 

Diego raises his head enough to look over at Luther, one eyebrow raised.

“Would you now,” he drawls, but his cheeks are tinged pink and his eyes keep flickering off to the side, staring at the wall. 

 

“I would,” Luther says without missing a beat. He’s surprised by the sincerity in his voice but then again he never tended to hide his emotions.  _ Easy to read _ , as Allison says. 

 

Diego scoots closer to him again, leaning forward and further into Luther’s space. Luther doesn’t move, probably doesn’t even breathe. 

 

“Then why did you….,” Diego makes an aborted gesture with his hand, pointing between the two of them. 

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” Diego says. “That’s what I thought too, you know.”

 

He studies Luther’s face, like he’s looking for an answer there, trying to read the curve of his mouth and the slope of his nose. Luther rubs his neck rather forcefully, opting to stare at the ground. 

 

“And?” Diego pushes. “If you don’t wanna kiss me, you can just say so.”

 

He tries to sound nonchalant but hears the telltale slide of metal against metal and knows that Diego’s started playing with his knives. It’s a nervous tick, like Luther has with wringing his hands or Vanya with biting her lip bloody. 

He doesn’t see Diego do it as often though. 

 

Only when he's really nervous. 

 

Luther's first reflex is to argue. Of course he wants to kiss Diego, he  _ likes _ Diego. 

 

He likes having him around, he likes how easy it is between them now.

He likes watching Diego do things. Anything. Train. Read. Even bicker with Klaus.

 

He likes when Diego touches him, pats him on the back or slings an arm around his waist lazily, pulling him close for a second before letting go again. It makes him feel warm, leaves his skin tingling, nearly as much as Diego smiling at him, cocking his head to the side….

 

…..Maybe he should’ve noticed the whole flirting thing sooner. 

 

“Hey big boy, not to rush you or anything, but I’m getting a bit antsy over here, being left in the dark like this.” Diego is still close enough that his breath hits Luther’s cheek while he talks, Luther still not willing to look at Diego. 

 

Why is this so hard? It shouldn’t be so hard. Other people seemed to get this whole relationship thing, seemed to instinctively know what to say and how to act. 

Even his siblings handle love better and one of them is in a relationship with a mannequin. 

 

Love. Had he ever been in love? He was pretty sure he had loved Allison, could still feel his heart clench, soften at her name on the tip of his tongue, warmth blooming in his chest when he sees her. 

 

But was that romantic love? Or had he confused it with something else, with the security of seeing  _ Home _ mirrored in her face, shining in her eyes.  _ Comfort _ in the way she walks and holds herself, so deeply familiar, a memory anchored in his mind. 

 

How do you distinguish between this kind of love and the love everyone seems to be talking about? The important one, the one with the big L?

 

“Luther? You’re starting to worry me.” Diego’s hand is heavy on his shoulder, pushing down hard enough to reach through the twisted muscle and coarse fur and touch the person inside. Ground him. 

 

“Should I leave you alone for a bit? Let you work through this?” Diego’s rubbing his back, keeping his voice light. Luther has a hard time reading other people’s emotions but even he knows it’s an act. This is hard on Diego too. 

 

“I’m sorry I’m not good at this,” is what he says, not an answer to either of Diego’s questions. “I feel like I should be but I’m not.”

 

“It’s fine. Lo-,” Diego clears his throat. “Relationships are messy.”

He cracks his knuckles in the weird way of his, only using one hand with the other still on Luther. Burning through his clothes. 

 

“That’s unhealthy,” Luther says, like he always says when Diego does it. 

 

“Bite me,” Diego shoots back, like he always does. 

 

They smile at each other. 

 

Diego shakes his head. “I really should’ve gone about this differently. Shouldn’t have been so impatient. You’re….delicate.”

 

Luther flushes, feels it all through his body. “Inexperienced you mean.”

 

“That doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

 

“I…,” Luther stops. He straightens his shoulders and Diego’s hand slips. He expects him to let go but he only holds on tighter, fingers digging into Luther’s skin. It should be painful but Luther barely notices. 

 

“I’m not sure if I want to be experienced.”

 

Silence. Luther presses his fingers against his thumb again, quicker this time. He watches, follows the movement with his eyes, let’s the pressure soothe him. 

 

Diego moves next to him but Luther keeps his eyes on his hand. The hand on his shoulder slips towards his neck, fingers grazing skin and Luther closes his eyes, tries not to jerk away. 

It’s hard, especially when Diego’s hand touches fur, longer at his back than anywhere else. It’s a hard angle for a razor.

 

Diego doesn’t comment on it, moves his hand as if there is normal skin and not hints of the monster Luther truly is. Reaches up so the tips of his fingers are on Luther’s skull. 

 

“You don’t have to be.” Diego’s voice is low, barely there, and Luther nearly forgot what they were talking about. 

“You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be.”

 

It’s meant as a comfort but it’s not true and Diego knows it. Not in every aspect anyway. 

Still, Luther bites. “But wouldn’t you want me to be? Experienced, I mean.”  _ Wouldn’t you want to experience those things with me? _

 

The thought makes Luther queasy, bile rising from his stomach, settling in his throat. 

There are pictures in his head, like long forgotten dias, blurred and faded at the sides. Hands reaching for his belt, loud breathing in his ear. A giggle, high-pitched. Red lipstick. 

 

He doesn’t remember whether it was good but he never questioned that it was. 

Sex is always good, isn’t it? That’s why people are so obsessed with it. 

 

(He has wet dreams, he knows what his own hand around his dick feels like. He just never thought about someone else touching him like that. Not Allison. Surely not Diego). 

 

“What I want is not important. Not if it doesn’t match up with what you need.” That’s the Diego Luther knows, hard and unyielding. He touches Luther’s cheek, puts his fingers under Luther’s chin. Pulls, gently, until Luther’s looking at him. 

 

“What do you need, Luther?” Diego’s eyes are  _ big _ , the only thing Luther can see, can concentrate on. “You have to tell me.”

 

Luther’s throat is dry. He feels weak, maybe for the first time in his life, like Diego’s hands on his are the only thing holding him together. 

 

“What if-, What if I don’t know what I need?” He swallows and his throat clicks, sticky. “Or what I want?”

 

“What if all I am is just really confused?”

 

Diego doesn’t break eye contact, doesn’t scoff at him. Just moves his index finger slowly, up and down, up and down. Presses it against Luther’s cheek. 

 

“Easy,” he says, and it sounds calm enough Luther believes him. 

 

“We do this one at a time. Just tell me what you like and what you don’t like, yes?”

 

Luther nods. 

 

“Holding hands.”

 

Luther thinks of a warm palm pressing into his own, a mini hug for his hand. He doesn’t take long to answer. “Yes.”

 

Diego raises an eyebrow. “Yes what?”

 

“Yes, I like that.”

 

Diego nods, smiling. “Noted. More: How about cuddling?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

Diego shoots him a look. 

 

“Yes, I like that. What else is ‘yes’ supposed to mean?”

 

Diego shrugs but he’s grinning, like he always does when he is teasing Luther. “I just like you saying it.” He tips his finger against Luther’s cheek. “Verbal consent and all.”

 

Luther scoffs. “Just because I like it doesn’t mean I consent to doing it with you.”

 

Diego’s grin falls but he continues before Luther can say anything. “Right. So: Kissing?”

 

Luther bites his lip. Thinks of Diego’s tongue prodding at it. Looks away. 

“Not sure.”

 

“Not sure?” 

 

Diego taps his cheek again and Luther looks back to him. “Seems….wet.”

 

“Depends on how you do it.” Diego regards him for a moment. “Would you like it less wet?” 

 

Luther shrugs, tries to anyway, Diego still holding onto him. Holding him in place. 

“I guess so.”

 

“Noted.” Luther expects him to make a joke, say something like ‘I’ll try less wet next time’ but he doesn’t, only nods at Luther’s answer.

 

Maybe Luther wants him to try less wet next time, just to see how it is. How it would feel. 

 

(Maybe he’s been thinking about Diego for every single question, maybe that’s why he was so quick to answer). 

 

“Sex.”

 

Luther stays silent, sucks his lip into his mouth. 

 

“Luther.” Diego sounds stern. Luther has to think of their father, his eyebrows knitted together as he scolds Luther for lacking in performance. He flinches. 

 

“Luther, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” There’s more pressure on his chin, Diego holding tight. Forcing him to keep eye contact. 

 

Luther grips his hand, pushes it from his face. Leans back so Diego has to lift the hand from his neck too, breaks off all points of contact. He crosses his arms, turns his head. 

 

Diego doesn’t say anything, only stares. Luther can feel it, can feel Diego’s eyes boring into the side of his face. He clenches his jaw. 

“I haven’t thought about it much, okay?” He throws his hands up, nearly hits Diego with his arm. “In fact, I don’t think I ever thought about it.”

 

“About sex?” Diego mirrors Luther, crosses his arms over his chest, but his face is open. 

 

“About having sex with someone.” Luther lets his head thump back against the couch. Considers doing it again, if only for the satisfaction of letting out his frustration somehow. “It just never seemed exciting I guess.”

 

“Not even with Allison?”

 

Luther looks up sharply, meets Diego’s eyes. Diego raises both his hands, like he’s genuinely sorry. “It’s just a question. You two seemed...close.”

 

_ You seemed like you were in love. _

 

There was a brief time before Ben died and everything fell apart where Allison and Him practised kissing. Only once or twice.

 

He supposes he enjoyed it, based on the twisty feeling low in his gut, but maybe he’d been too nervous to actually evaluate the experience properly. It stopped before any tongue got introduced and looking back, Luther is thankful for that. 

 

When he looks at Allison now, he doesn’t miss her lips on his terribly - doesn’t remember the feeling other than some kind of pressure, like wiping your mouth with your hand. 

But he also didn’t think he’d wanted Diego’s mouth on his and now...well. 

 

Diego’s right; Relationships are messy. 

 

“I think I mostly just wanted to be there? Be with her? I liked spending time with her. And making her happy.” He looks up at the ceiling, sees the dust on the lampshade. He’d be tall enough to clean it. 

“I still wanna see her happy.”

 

Diego considers that, plays with his knives again. Luther never registers when he gets them; only sees him sitting there, empty-handed in one second and armed in the next. Like a magician doing a trick. Luther would be too clumsy for the kind of power Diego has, fingers too thick to swirl the knife without hurting himself. 

 

Diego does it without even looking, prefers to keep his eyes on Luther. They watch each other for a moment and the tips of Luther’s ears heat up. He watches the ceiling again. 

 

“You wanna see her happy...but you don’t wanna  _ make _ her happy anymore?” 

 

Luther frowns. “Is the distinction important?”

 

“In your case it is.” And the knives are gone again, vanished to god knows where. Instead, Diego draws his knees up, turns his body towards Luther. Luther wouldn’t fit onto the couch like that, doesn’t even really fit now, the armrest digging into his waist uncomfortably. 

 

Diego looks tiny and Luther probably looks huge in comparison. He hunches his shoulders. 

 

“I guess I accepted that she can make herself happy.”  _ She doesn’t need me to be her hero.  _

 

_ No one needs me to be their hero. _

 

“Everyone can work on making themselves happy. That’s not the point.” It sounds like one of Diego’s usual attacks, only lacking the bite. 

 

“What is the point then?” There’s annoyance bleeding into the words but Luther can’t stop himself. This whole conversation is draining. 

 

“The point….,” Diego sighs, hands fluttering. He’s  _ trying  _ and Luther is grateful for that. 

 

He takes one of Diego’s hands, more instinct than rational thought, slowly intertwines their fingers. Diego makes a noise, surprised, and his face opens. It feels intimate, like Luther is witnessing something he shouldn’t be seeing, something private. 

Luther looks away, cheeks burning. 

 

“The point is trying your hardest to make someone happy. Not because they need you to do it. But because you _ want _ to do it.” Diego’s voice is so goddamn  _ soft _ and his thumb is rubbing over Luther’s knuckles and Luther’s heart is aching. 

 

“But what if I wanna make all of you happy? You’re all-”  _ Family _ , is what Luther thinks but somehow that doesn’t seem appropriate at the moment. 

“You’re all important to me.”

 

“Well,” Diego snorts. “That’s normally what sex is for.”

 

He smiles at Luther but his disappointment must show on his face because Diego immediately drops it, something flashing in his eyes. 

 

“Hey.” His hand is on Luther again, pressing against his cheek, fingers brushing the skin under his eye. “Hey, I know it’s hard.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“I know how hard it can be figuring out the difference between platonic love and romantic love. I confused them a few times.” Diego shrugs one shoulder - no big deal - but there’s sadness in the way he looks at Luther, in the corner of his mouth. 

Luther thinks of the Police Officer, the one Diego was ready to kill for even if it wouldn’t bring her back. He squeezes his hand, maybe a bit too hard. Diego smiles anyway. 

“It’s especially hard if your definition of romantic love doesn’t entail sexual attraction,” he continues, hand still on Luther’s cheek. 

 

“Those were a lot of big words; I am impressed.” 

 

“Shut up.” Diego pinches him, light enough to show he’s joking but hard enough to make Luther flinch and grip his arm, stilling him. 

 

“So that’s what it is? I don’t have...a sexual interest in people?”

 

Diego wiggles his arm until Luther eases his grip. Slides it down, Luther’s fingers catching on his wrist. “Seems like it from what you’ve described. But there’s still time to figure things out. I’m sure we could find some books or something at the library.” Diego clicks his tongue. “Maybe ask Klaus.”

 

“We?”

 

Diego splutters. “I just-, I thought-, Since we’re already talking about this-” There’s a red hue settling on his cheeks, barely there. Luther can’t stop staring. 

 

“Sounds good,” he interrupts, before Diego gets too worked up. “I would appreciate you helping me.” He moves his hand, up and past Diego’s wrist. Holds it properly. 

 

Diego relaxes instantly, shoulders dropping. Luther smiles. “I already know where we could start.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I mean-,” Luther raises his arm to rub at his neck, more of a reflex than anything, but Diego’s holding onto both of his hands. He could let go, only for a second, but he finds himself not wanting to. 

 

“I probably should try some things out...see if I enjoy them?” It’s sounds like a question more than a statement and Diego looks concerned. 

 

“I told you: You don’t have to try anything you don’t wanna try.”

 

“Yes, I know.” God, this is embarrassing. Since when is Diego the protective older brother? 

 

_ Don’t think of him as a brother. Not now. _

 

“I wanna try some things. I want to try some things with you, specifically.”

 

“Oh.” Diego stares for a second, stares at him, stares at their entwined hands. “Oh,” he says again and Luther can see his throat working, skin turning red rapidly. 

 

“What w-w-...., what do you have in mind?” It’s strange, how one person can change so drastically within a few minutes. Where did the Diego go who had no qualms about sticking his tongue down Luther’s throat? 

 

He’s probably hanging out somewhere with the Luther who is perfectly content seeing Diego as his little brother and nothing more, oblivious to the way his skin burns up at every light touch, heart beating in his throat. 

 

God, he’s such an idiot. 

 

“You mentioned kissing that isn’t wet? Nice kissing.” Luther has the strong urge to be swallowed by the earth right about now. 

 

Diego stares some more, eyes wide. He licks his lips. “I can do that,” he says, throaty. He licks his lips again, clears his throat. “I can definitely do nice kissing.”

 

(Turns out Luther likes nice kissing. Luther also likes Diego’s hand on his chest or carding through his hair while nice kissing. 

 

He isn’t sure if he likes those things in general or if he only likes Diego doing those things, but Diego’s right. 

 

He has time to figure it out). 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know that asexual people have a very varied experience concerning their sexual interest/activity and I hope it's okay I wrote Luther as very inexperienced because frankly, he is in the show. 
> 
> Tell me what you thought! You can also yell at me on tumblr (b-rainlet). 
> 
> PS: I am forever team 'Making out with tongue involvement is gross af' lmao


End file.
